Lex Talionis
by Ashura no Miko
Summary: A lifetime is not merely it's end, but also it's beginning. The story of Devil May Cry begins in the house of Evangeline DeAngelis, and ends on Mallet Island. In between is where the story occurs.


**Notes:**

**Setting notes:**

**Setting:** Capcom likes to claim that DMC is set in modern day America. Anyone who lives in modern day America doesn't believe them – myself included. We don't have that many Gothic or Romanesque Cathedrals. In fact, we don't have any. We don't have a Mallet Island with mythic ruins on it. We don't have little medieval hamlets overrun with demons. Because of this I've slightly altered the setting for the fic. DMC is a strange mix of old and new. It's new enough to have modern handguns and motorcycles, but old enough to have many Victorian and Edwardian style houses and dresses in it. This fic is set in an alternative version of our own world. History is generally the same – the Roman Empire occurred, as did the split of the church, discovery of America, etc. However, the culture in this world is far more Edwardian. Women still wear corsets, aristocracy reigns, and there is a very clear class system – but they have technologies like cars, planes and the like. Also, demons are no secret. Demons and Hell are both known facts - people know what a demon is, and they know to run from it. Demons are no superstitions, or only believed in by crazy people. Saying "I don't believe in demons" would be the same as saying "I don't believe in deer." to us.

Also, I don't buy the America thing. Considering the large number of Italian references in the game(both Virgil and Dante were Italian poets, Nelo Angelo is a perversion of Nero Angelo – Italian for Dark Angel), so I'm saying that Eva's family is Italian in origin, and the first part of the fic is set in Italy.

**Names:** I've made up a bunch of names for the sake of the fic. Dante and Virgil's last name is never mentioned. I don't imagine that Sparda had a last name, but I imagine that Eva did, so I gave her the last name of DeAngelis, which is Italian for 'of the Angels'. Cliché, but I thought it'd work.

I've also lengthened Eva's name. Since I've based her in the aristocracy, I thought she needed a longer name. Her name is Evangeline, with the nickname Eva.

The town that Eva's family is based out of is Tarquinia. This isn't a modern Italian city. I didn't want to use a modern city, because then I'd fall into the trap of not knowing anything about it and having to make up things about a real city. Tarquinia is a city of the ancient Etruscans, one of the ancestral races of the Latin race. This city is most famous for its sprawling necropolis, with many Etruscan art works. In the fanfic Tarquinia is a small village in a valley, where the DeAngelis family has reigned as social and political leaders for years.

Virgil will be Virgil, not Vergil. Vergil is not a name, just as Nelo is not an Italian word. Virgil was the poet who wrote the Aeneid, and Virgil was the name that they were trying for when writing DMC, so Virgil will be Virgil.

**Continuity notes:**

**Twins:** I don't buy the twins thing. There was no mention of Virgil and Dante being twins in the first game – Virgil was just called his brother, and usually when you're talking about twins, you don't say 'his brother' – you say 'his twin.' I hate reconning, and considering Capcom can't seem to decide what is true and what isn't in the DMC-verse, and considering the continuity has never been an issue to the DMC creators, I don't feel too bad about going back to the original concept of Virgil being Dante's older brother.

I really don't want flames about this, so if this bothers you, please don't tell me all about it. Either interpretation is valid – in DMC3 they are multiple times called twins. It's perfectly acceptable to think of them as such. However, in the comic Virgil clearly states that he'll let Dante win their fight because it's "his birthday." If they were twins, they would have the same birthday. Virgil is something like a foot taller than Dante in DMC1. While physical difference is possible in fraternal twins, this kind of difference is extremely unlikely. Dante clearly refers to himself as the little brother. Interpreting them as brothers and not twins is just as valid, considering the conflicting evidence, so please don't try and tell me that my interpretation is incorrect.

**Moral notes:**

**Graphic violence and disturbing imagery:** This fanfic will contain extremely graphic violence in later chapters. I will make sure to make note of this at the top of chapters that contain such writings. This is a story about demons, after all, and as the goal of the fanfic is to show the slow descent to madness, there will be more than enough disturbing passages. These passages will include violence, implications of sex, implications of sex combined with violence, mental torture, manipulation and mass murder. Again, chapters containing these elements will be noted.

**Incest:** There will be elements of incest in later chapters. Please don't send me flames on this, as they will be ignored. I am no more condoning this behavior than I am mass murder. The difference between fantasy incest and real incest is huge. In modern America 99 of all cases of incest are rape. In this fic it will be consensual. This is not reality people. It's a fantasy. It's also about demons, who do not hold the same moral code as humans.

**General notes:**

This will be a multipart fic that chronicles Virgil's life. I love Dante lots, but he has three games devoted to him. I wanted to write a fic that followed Virgil from his youth, all the way up to his death. I wanted the fic to follow his mental state through life, in an attempt to tell why and what caused him to do the things he did. I originally started the fic at Dante's birth, but I found that I was going back to flashbacks to tell what happened before, so I decided to write a prologue to explain Eva and her family. It turned out way longer than I expected. Oops.

**Title:** Lex Talionis translates as 'The Law of Retribution.' It is the oldest law that we know of. On the Stele Law Code of Hammurabi, which is the oldest codified set of laws we've found, we see an example of Lex Talionis, which says that a criminal will be paid back with an appropriate retribution for his crime. The most famous example of Lex Talionis comes from Hebrew texts, which state "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, an arm for an arm, a life for a life." Dante Alighieri's _Commedia_ gives us examples of Lex Talionis in the levels of hell. Sinners are paid back for their sins on earth with appropriate punishments. I felt that this sentiment was very appropriate for Virgil, who, I feel, is attempting to pay back the world for the pain he's felt.

**Prologue: Tears in the Rain**

_"Every street I ever walked  
Every home I ever had  
Is lost_

Every flower I ever held  
Every spring I ever had  
Has died"  
- Tears in the Rain; Covenant

The history of the land, in the context of the tale, is perhaps not as important as other details. Nonetheless, it is an issue that should be covered, however insignificant it may seem. It is, after all, the setting for the beginning of the story, and though many people may argue the case, as to what part of a tale is the most important, no one would dismiss the beginning as anything other than integral.

The land had always been fertile. People had always farmed there, but the town of Tarquinia, which would eventually become the center of commerce and life in the valley, was founded by a man by the name of DeAngelis. While his own life gave little to the collective history of the world, it would be from the descendants of his that would come one young woman who would change the everything in Tarquinia, and even the world as a whole. More importantly, however, it would be from her that two young men(a misnomer to be certain) would come into the world of man. A world they were never intended to inhabit.

The story of these young men begins in the house of DeAngelis, which, over the generations, had become quite a power within the valley of Tarquinia. His grandfather having been named Earl of the region, Oderigo DeAngelis was a satisfied man. He had inherited his power and money, and the prestige that came with it. His estate, the estate of his father, and his father before him, included a mansion built to the style of the time, a vast stable(famous for it's well bred jumpers), a copious number of house maids, guardsmen, gardeners, cooks, stable hands and other various servants, and, of course, the sprawling grounds. He was lord over not only the rich and well tended gardens of the estate, but also fine hunting grounds further down the valley, and the richest soils of the area. And while by the gentry of the city he was considered quite the little fish, he was grand in his own pond, and the people of Tarquinia treated him and his family like royalty.

His wife was similar to her husband in many regards. She wished to be most well looked upon lady of the times, and devoted herself to the latest news from the city and the fashions therein. As with her husband, in the scale of things she had little consequence, but to her own mind, and the minds of the village women, she was the height of all things aristocratic. Having birthed six children for her husband, she considered the dresses and accessories she bought to be her well deserved reward.

As for the children of Oderigo DeAngelis, most of them are quite irrelevant in the course of this tale. His four sons were all quite the catch – all handsome, all well educated and one had even been sent away to university in the city. They were important to themselves, and to the young women of Tarquinia, but they, like their father, and his father before him, would not affect the world in any significant way. It would instead be the elder of the two daughters who was the apple of her father's eye, caught the eyes of more than just a few young men, and most importantly, the eye of a demon named Sparda. Of all the people to ever inhabit this one small valley, it was Evangeline DeAngelis who would change it the most. That was fairly clear from an early age, and the fact that it wasn't expected was a gross oversight by both her parents and nannies.

The child, it seemed, had been born without any sense of fear. From learning to walk(which she attempted quite early), to riding(she braved the horses that no one else dared mount), to speaking her mind(a concept not well embraced by her community or her mother), she seemed to be fearless. Nothing ever caused her to quail or shrink back. Boys tried to woo her, her mother tried to tame her, her father tried to change her, men tried to cow her, women tried to insult her, and once, a demon tried to kill her. None were ever successful.

Eva was tall for a woman. She stood a head above her mother and her younger sister, Alessandra, and she had no problem using this to her advantage. She could be sweet as syrup, or as cold as ice, depending on her mood. It was often said that there was something about her – something that you couldn't quite put your finger on. Some would say that it was her golden tresses. They fell all the way to her waist, and were kept by her handmaidens in perfect curls and ringlets. Others would say it was her poise that attracted the attention of all who were in a room with her. Her back always straight as a board, her hands clasped in front of her, she could appear quite demure when she needed to, and quite intimidating if she wanted to. Others, still, would claim that it was her eyes, both deep and blue, and could catch you like an animal in a trap. They would all be wrong.

It was an evening in late spring, when the air was beginning to get hot, and the fireflies just beginning to emerge from the bushes. Earl DeAngelis had been in the city for many nights, and it was this night that he was expected back. As she always did, Eva waited at the end of the garden for the headlights of his car, holding her lantern in her hand. She waited where the waist high wooden fence made a corner, to the left of the picket gate that opened onto the path that lead up to the cottage estate.

The evening air was slightly chill, the sun having set a few hours before, and Eva pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, though she didn't shiver. Her father should have been back before dinner, but she supposed he'd been held up somehow. She could distantly hear the sounds of the rest of the family taking their supper. It sounded warmer in there. However, Eva didn't budge. She waited at the end of the garden like she always did, and her gaze never wavered from the road that lead into town, framed by the boughs of the trees, which had twisted together to form an archway all the way down into Tarquinia.

It had been a long evening, and her feet were beginning to hurt, so she shifted a little, adjusting her skirts. As she did so, however, she thought she heard something and looked back up. It was the sounds of hooves, which she heard well before she saw the rider, and sighed, looking back out to the garden, her hand brushing over the gardenias she stood amongst.

The horse made barely a sound, but Eva heard the hoof beats stop, and the sound of something heavy hitting the gravel road. She blinked and looked up again, hearing a faint, strangled cry – but it was dark, beyond the light from the estate, and she couldn't see anything beneath the arch of the trees. The rider was gone, having disappeared swiftly, unexpectedly.

Evangeline moved around to the garden gate, slipping out and holding out her lantern high as she edged forward, tilting her head up. She didn't say anything.

It sounded like an animal. Some kind of large animal, perhaps, had attacked the rider? She wasn't sure. She took another step forward, then another – she wasn't afraid, but she wasn't a fool either. The light didn't do much. She could see the traveler lying on the dirt road, and she could see the blood pooling beneath his head, but there was a dark patch, something she couldn't quite make out…

Then, suddenly, the darkness moved, shifting around, and Eva saw glowing red eyes, staring into her. She didn't run. She stared at the beast. Demons, after all, were not wholly uncommon, but she'd never faced one before, and now here she was, barely four feet away from one. It shifted around, leaning up onto its hindquarters, and then pushed itself up, standing upright on two legs, though it's back remained hunched over, as it was obviously more accustomed to walking on all fours. It made its way towards her, and her eyes traveled over its body, suddenly fascinated by the network of tiny red veins all over its midnight black skin. By the time she remembered to look up, it was barely a foot away from her, staring down at her over its bloody muzzle.

"Even if you scream, it won't change anything. No one will be able to help you." It growled out in a very low voice, and she assumed it was a he(though she knew little of demons, and for all she knew, she-demons had low voices as well). As she stood there, staring up at what she was sure was to be her death, she realized that what he'd just said, and it struck her as very silly.

"Yes, I know."

He looked down at her, and if she wasn't mistaken, she thought she saw a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"I will kill you." He tried again.

"Well, that _is_ what demons do." Her hand didn't waver, holding the lantern up to see his face. It was almost as if he repelled light, making it very difficult to make him out. It was almost as though he were a shadow in physical form.

There was a pause then, as he stared down at her, and though it only lasted a minute, it was enough. A second later the headlights of the Earl's car rounded the bend, and the demon was gone. Eva was left alone in the road next to the carcass of the man and his horse.

Her father got out of the car in a worried huff, fussing over her and asking her all sorts of questions, but she wasn't really paying attention to him. She was staring out into the dark woods, trying to find her demon.

Evangeline was only a few months passed eighteen when she conceived her first child.

The demon's hands slid down her body, and his fangs trailed over her delicate flesh. In the hot nights of the summer they lay in the wan light of the setting sun, and his huge form was tangled with hers. Describing their romance would be awkward at best, considering the circumstances, but suffice it to say it didn't take long to go from their first meeting to their first mating.

She was fascinated by him. She left the house every night to wait for a glimpse of him that first week after their initial run in. When he finally allowed himself to be seen, he made no move to kill her, though he assured her that he would eventually, when he understood her. She had simply said that she would endeavor to remain an enigma.

He would curl quite comfortably in the shadows and listen to her, and she would talk to him as though he were a dear old friend. One night she reached out to trace one of his great ram's horns, and he lifted a claw to cut her clothing from her body. He planned to take her without her consent, but he found that she wrapped her arms around him willingly, and somehow he couldn't find it in himself to kill her that night. He was oddly gentle with her, as much as he could be, in any case.

"You didn't scream." He said, leaning over her naked form, cleaning the sweat from her skin with his tongue.

"Hmm?" She murmured, looking up from the rocks and roots of the forest floor, her body bruised, but pleased.

"When we met. When you found me. You didn't scream." He spoke quite plainly, like she did. She liked it.

"You told me that it wouldn't make a difference."

"Yes, but all women scream."

"I didn't."

The demon paused, not knowing what to say to that. It was, after all, true. What was there to say? She was a woman, and she did not scream. It was a fact. He nodded a little, as though satisfied with all this, though he was still fairly confused, and shifted to lie against her, curled around her much smaller form. She rolled over to look up at him.

"Will I see you again?" She asked, tracing his horn like she had a little bit earlier.

"You are bold, for a human." He said, not really replying.

"What's your name?" She didn't seem to mind that he'd evaded her question.

"Sparda."

All that summer they mated together. She, full of curiosity and wonderment, caught up in the idea of so abandoning all that dull normalcy, all those conventions and boring human sensibilities to mate with a demon, and he, filled with the curiosity of her, caught in her eyes. He, like all the others, could not put his finger on what it was about her that caught him, but he was content to stay with her to find out.

It was her sister who first noticed the bulge in Eva's stomach. She was doing up Eva's corset, the older girl holding her hair up and out of the way.

"Evangeline, you have put on weight. This corset won't tie." Alessandra frowned and tried to tighten the strings.

"I have not." Eva shifted her hands slightly, the perfectly curled blonde locks trailing over her fingers.

"You most absolutely have. This corset is new." Alessandra tugged even harder, but looked confused when Eva pulled away from her, loosening the corset and lowering it down her arms.

"It isn't that." She clutched the corset to her chest, looking down at her hands. "I have met a man."

The pause in the room was heavy and long, and outside the window, in the sweet summer of the garden, Evangeline could hear the buzz of the insects, and distantly the sounds of her young cousins playing. Eva shut her eyes, letting the sounds of the children fill her ears, and she lowered her hands to her belly, the corset slipping down to her wrists unnoticed.

"Are…you saying what I think you're saying, sister?" Alessandra stayed as still as Eva had ever seen her. The older girl smiled and looked over her shoulder at her little sister, golden curls shifting as she did so.

"Yes, Alessandra. I haven't bled for two months. I carry his child." As always she spoke painfully plainly, seemingly unconcerned for tact or delicacy.

The younger lady fell silent again, letting her hands fall into her lap. She stared at the floor, biting her lower lip. Finally she managed to speak again.

"What will you do?" She halted, nervously, more afraid for her sister than her sister was for herself. "Will you tell father?"

"When it is time." Eva replied calmly, moving over to the closet to pull out one of her looser dresses. "But for now, you must tie my corset loose, and only you may tie it – if I allow the maids, they will surely tell mother, and she father." Eva paused, then turned. "Will you tell them, Alessandra?"

"No! Of course not!" The younger girl exclaimed quickly, quite desperate to have her sister's trust. "I just…How can you be so calm? How can you be so sure of what's to come…?"

The elder DeAngelis smiled with all the grace of an angel.

"Because I am the bride of Sparda."

For the next few weeks Alessandra begged her sister for details of her suitor. Despite Eva's obviously precarious position as an unwed, pregnant girl, Alessandra seemed to find the whole situation terribly romantic. She fancied every handsome man she glanced at in town was the secret father of Eva's child, and nattered on about how romantic it would be if they eloped. Eva would just smile patiently, because she knew different. Every evening she would meet with him in the extensive back gardens of the DeAngelis Estate.

"You look tired." She said, her face awash with the soft green glow of the fireflies. In the shadows she could see his red eyes, glowing as brightly as the insects.

"It is difficult…" He took a deep breath. "It is difficult coming through to this world."

Her hands clasped in front of her skirt, she stepped forward, walking over the stepping stones of the garden path. She reached up, taking his head in her hands. He growled softly to her, and she smiled in return, unafraid of him. Her hands passed over his dark hide, over the extended angular jaw that housed his long fangs.

"Your child grows fast. I can already feel him kick."

"Him?" He queried.

"I know." Eva answered simply.

"He will be born soon." Sparda murmured, sounding almost apologetic. "Demons to not take as long in the womb as humans." He paused again, his huge form crouched down on the ground. He leaned in, nuzzling the now more significant bulge of her belly. She felt his sharp canines, powerful and deadly, brush over the cloth of her dress.

"Eva…" He growled out. "It is not uncommon for human women to die when birthing halflings." He paused again. "In fact…it is quite rare that both mother and child survive."

She laughed softly, and he looked up at her in confusion, his curled ram's horns in her hands.

"Are you trying to say you are worried for me?" A corner of her mouth quirked up curiously. He snorted and huffed, glowing red eyes darting away. She smiled softly, and crouched down slowly, her hands traveling down to the hinges of his jaw again. "You are quite sweet, my love, in your own way, though you might wish to deny it." She leaned in to kiss him softly.

"You shouldn't say such things." He grumbled out, kissing her in return despite his words.

"Why is that?" She quirked her head.

"Because I could kill you, if I wanted." He responded, but she just laughed again and stood up. She began to walk away, but he stopped her. "Why do you laugh? You know it's true."

"Of course it's true." She said, looking over at him quite seriously. "I have known that since the night I met you. You even told me so. You could have killed me any night we met up, all summer. I never presumed to think that you wouldn't, just because we're lovers." She spoke bluntly - a trait quite common in demons, but not so in humans, and it always managed to catch him off guard. "And even now I know it would not be beneath you to kill me, even as I carry your son, your offspring, but I also know that you won't."

"Why is that?" He questioned warily.

"Because you love me, Sparda."

"Do not flatter yourself, woman." He said gruffly.

"I don't." She said shortly, staring him down with the same intensity she had the first night they met, with the same intensity that had stopped him from killing her there and then. "I never speak unless I am absolutely sure that I am right. And I am right." She turned back to the mansion, looking over her shoulder at him. "After all, you are the one who wears himself out every night to come and see me."

He watched her begin to walk back to her family's home, and though his claws flexed, he found he couldn't go after her.

She was, perhaps, correct.

"Evangeline." He called out to her, standing up and holding out his talons to her. He didn't often say her name, so she paused and looked back at him. "Come to me."

She stood there for a moment, and he thought she might still turn and leave, but she didn't. She looked so dignified and beautiful, and though she obeyed his command, he already knew that she had tamed him. She stepped into his arms, and she felt the slight wind as his wings shifted.

"I do not understand you." He said lowly, and her ear, pressed to his chest, heard it more as a growl than an actual sentence.

"That is why you still can't kill me. Not yet." She replied quietly.

He didn't deny it.

Unfortunately, Sparda was correct – the babe grew quickly within her, and soon her belly swelled too much to be ignored. Her father railed at her, and her mother cried. Her brothers scorned her and Alessandra tried to defend her. It didn't bother Eva. She sang to her child at night, and though her father locked her in her room, and she could no longer meet Sparda in the gardens, she didn't fret.

"I will call you Virgil, my son." She said softly, looking out of her window over the garden. "I will name you after the master poet of Rome, the man who crafted the Aeneid for Augustus Caesar himself." She saw, amongst the bushes, the faint glow of two red eyes, and smiled to herself a little. "You will be as proud and marvelous as he, and justly so, for you will be a son of Sparda." One of the family guardsmen stood by one of the iron lamps that shone minimal light into the darkened flora. She could see Sparda creeping forward towards him – he would never see him, of course. It had taken months for Eva to be able to adjust her eyes to see Sparda in the dark, and this man would never be able to spot him. "It was my favorite story when I was small. I will read it to you when you are born. I will read you all the works of the virtuous pagans, and I know you will love them as much as I did." She lowered a hand to abdomen, stroking the rounded swell of her stomach.

Out in the garden she saw the guardsmen fall without any sound at all, and she smiled proudly at what a fine hunter her lover was.

"You will be as strong as he, my son…You will be the child of our dreams." Her expression softened, thinking of the future of her halfling babe. She watched her mate slink forward like a shadow, eyes never leaving his long, graceful form. "Son of Sparda…the most powerful of all demons…You will be my dearest treasure." Her eyes lidded, and with her arms she embraced her unborn child. "I will love you so dearly, so that you will never feel the hatred of this world."

She didn't jump at the sound of something heavy landing on the roof outside her dormer window, only opened her eyes to see his dark countenance, looking down at her.

"You haven't come for many days." He stated, and she was the only person in the world who could have possibly heard his worry. "What is wrong? Where have you been?"

She leaned forward, lifting a hand out towards him, wanting to feel the unnaturally warm heat of his demonic skin beneath her fingers. He leaned in, placing his head in her hand.

"My father has locked my door." Her thumb rubbed back and forth over his cheekbone. "And while I was never so agile as to go leaping off of roofs, this child has made me even less so."

"I don't know how you can be so jovial." He remarked dryly, frowning a bit.

"Because it is not all that bad." Eva tsked him and leaned back into her room, letting her hand drop to ease the pressure on her already strained back. He shifted closer, settling near the opening of her window. In the garden they could hear the cries of the servants as they discovered the mangled corpse of the guardsmen.

"You are always so cavalier, Eva." He finally said, lowly. "Sometimes things really are all that bad."

"Perhaps." She said, watching light come over the garden as more servants and some of the household rushed outside. "But despite all that, I still have you, and I still have Virgil."

"Virgil?"

"Our child."

"I do not get a say in naming him?"

"No."

He huffed, a puff of hot air coming from his nose, but by now he knew better than to argue with her. He could not believe he had been cowed by such a delicate human woman.

"…it is a fine name, in any case." He finally responded, and gave her a dark look at her smile. "When will you be released?" He changed the topic.

"Knowing my father?" She tipped her head to the side, looking so unruffled for her predicament. "Something quite close to never."

"I could kill him." He offered, not at all understanding the intricate behaviors of humans. She laughed softly.

"That's sweet." She, however, seemed to perfectly understand the nature of demons. She smiled quite genuinely, lifting a hand to one of his horns, tracing its curvature. "But you should know that that isn't how it works with us. I cannot simply run away with you into the wilderness. As it is, this baby will be difficult to deliver. I do not wish to bring him into the world in the underbrush. I will wait out my father's anger and my mother's shame. They will always scorn me – my family, my people – but I won't take any notice. I will have you, and I will have Virgil. They will stare. They will whisper when I go into town, but what will I care? I will have you, and I will have Virgil. I have never needed them, so losing them will mean little to me. So long as I have my family – _our_ family – I will be just fine, Sparda."

He reached up, taking her hand in his. His hand was more than twice the size of hers, and his large, sharp talons folded themselves over her delicate skin.

"Your patience is beyond me, Eva." He sighed. "Honestly, _you_ are beyond me."

"Miss Evangeline!" There was a servant banging on her door quite desperately. "There has been an accident! Are you alright in there?"

"You should go." She said softly, placing her other hand over their joined ones.

"They pose no threat to me." He responded.

"But they are a threat to our child, and you cannot always be there for us."

He paused, but finally nodded as the banging on her door got louder, as did the shouting. His wings opened, as black as the night sky, and her eyes moved over them, appreciating their beauty.

"Until we meet again, my love…" She murmured, holding her hands out as he disappeared into the night. Behind her she heard her father burst through the door, demanding to know if she was alright, if she had seen anything, why she hadn't responded to the yelling.

She didn't listen, however, still staring out into the darkness.

The labor was not going well. It was already in its thirty-sixth hour when the baby began to crown. The midwife was tired herself – she had never seen a birthing like this, one that took this long without taking the life of the mother or child.

The young Miss DeAngelis had been stronger than she'd imagined. While her sudden seclusion had been a mystery at first, it hadn't taken very long for people to figure out exactly why Eva had been confined to her quarters. It had been quite the scandal, and the midwife had expected the girl to be the haughty little child she was used to in situations like these. She had been a midwife for many years – she was no beginner. She had birthed Lords and she had birthed stable hands. It was all the same. She had seen many unwed mothers before, both well bred and low born. Nothing shocked her anymore, except this.

She was not ready for a thirty six hour labor, and for the mother to hold up through it. She had to admit that perhaps it was true that this girl had some unnamable quality about her.

"Again. The child is almost out." The midwife held her hands out, reaching between Eva's thighs to cradle the head as the babe emerged. She frowned. Something was wrong. She didn't say anything though. She'd found that any bad sign could discourage the mother and cause her to give up. She would have to get the child out first. "Keep pushing, Miss Evangeline."

Eva flung her head back against the pillows, panting hard. She'd barely slept, and the little sleep she'd had during the labor had been filled with dreams of demons, dreams of Virgil. She was exhausted. She was at the end of her endurance. Her fingers clutched at the sheets weakly, and for the first time she wondered if she could do this.

"Virgil…" She murmured deliriously, squirming a little on the bed. "I…dreamt of you…" Her head tossed, and her eyes began to roll back.

"Stay here, Miss Evangeline. It's almost over."

Eva wasn't even sure who was speaking to her anymore. She was so tired, and she wanted so much just to sleep. Her back arched, and she struggled for breathe.

"I dreamt…of…" Her breath hitched in grief, and then she gripped the sheets with white knuckled fists, and her muscles tightened again. She was not losing this child.

Eva groaned as she gave one final push, putting the lasts of her energy into it, her entire body aching, but she relaxed when she heard the midwife give a cry of relief.

"He's out! It's a boy!"

Eva fell back to the bed bonelessly, her entire body aching but flooded with relief. It was a long moment before she noticed the silence. A horrible feeling swept her, and she looked up, praying to hear a cry, a wail, anything.

Her eyes first focused on her babe, and she sighed in relief to see his limbs moving healthily. Then, curiously, she looked to the midwife and her assistant, who were both staring at the baby in silent horror.

"What is it? Is it over?" The Earl opened the door, walking quickly into the room, followed by his wife and other children, all hoping for some clue as to the father's identity. They all stopped and stared. The babe blearily opened its glowing red eyes and took a deep breath, revealing sharp, pointed canines, and proceeded to call for his mother – a decidedly inhuman noise, somewhere between a growl and a yip. He chirped over and over again, flexing his claw-like hands in the air. For a long moment, it was the only sound in the room.

"…it is a demon." The Earl said finally, and the statement hung in the air for only a second, like a death sentence, for that was what it was.

Then the room erupted in chaos, some people screaming in fear, others demanding answers from Eva(who was still too tired to do much more than breath), some crying and wailing, and her father lamenting unto God. The midwife flung the baby from her hands in disgust, and it was pure luck that he landed on the bed.

It was that which snapped Eva to her senses. She snatched the baby into her arms, cradling him to her chest as he chirped in fear. The midwife and her assistant ran from the room. The Earl yelled for someone to stop them, desperate to keep the news from reaching the town, but no one heard him over the din.

Eva looked up suddenly when she felt hands on her, and recoiled instantly. She looked down to see her mother, who was on her knees in tears, begging Eva to tell her why. Eva just stared at her blankly, holding Virgil tightly.

"We must kill it."

The room went silent again all of a sudden, and all eyes turned to the Earl, who was pale and sweating.

"We must kill it before they get here and bury the remains. We can say the midwife was mistaken, that it was stillborn. It will be our word against hers." His eyes didn't leave the babe in Eva's arms, not until one of Eva's brothers spoke up.

"We have to kill the mother as well."

Eva didn't understand why he didn't use her name.

The room erupted again.

"That's preposterous.!"

"She mated with the devil!"

"What if she was raped?"

"The child must die!"

"Then why didn't she say anything?"

"She's evidence!"

"If we kill the child she might tell the others."

"Oh god, oh god have mercy."

"Someone fetch a knife."

Eva sat on the bed, unaware of who was saying what. All she knew was that her baby was in danger. They were going to kill her baby.

For the first time in her life she understood what it meant to fear.

"No!" She screamed, somehow managing to bolt from the bed and through the shocked members of her family. She fumbled with the doorknob with her shaking fingers, finally bursting through and propelling herself down the hallway towards the staircase. Behind her she could hear the cries of her family – of the people who would murder her son if she let them have him.

She stumbled down the first flight of stairs to the landing, tripping over the final stair and slamming into a wall.

"Get away from us!" She shrieked, whirling around to face them. Her voice broke as she did so, and she began to back away slowly. Her legs were shaking with fatigue, blood and birthing fluids running down her thighs and staining the carpet.

"Give the child to me, girl…" Her father commanded, reaching out one hand, edging towards her as she backed up. Her eyes flicked down to his opposite hand, in which he held his hunting knife.

"Get away…" She choked out, before turning to flee down the second flight of stairs, pushing her way passed curious servants to get to the front door. If she had known what was beyond it, she would never have opened it.

Eva stopped in her tracks, staring into the arch of branches like she had the night she was waiting for her father, like the night she'd met Sparda. There was a crowd. A group of men and women. They were making their way to the house, lanterns in one hand and weapons in another.

They were coming for her baby.

"Oh God…" Her voice shook, and her baby's cries filled her ears. She started to back up, but whirled around when she heard the front door open again. Her family moved cautiously forward, her father at the front.

"Oh God…Sparda!" She screamed, looking up and pleading into the night. "Sparda!" There was no response. "What's wrong with you people!" She turned on the mob, glancing between them and her family. "He's just a baby!" She tried again, but there was still no change in their pace. They were surrounding her, drawing slowly closer. "Are you insane!" She shrieked, hyperventilating, her voice scratchy and raw, and she trembled as she realized there was no escape. She suddenly knew that she was going to die, that she didn't want to die, that her child was going to die, and that she was so afraid. She flung her head back, screaming her grief into the sky.

There was a sudden gust of wind, so strong in almost knocked her down, and both groups on either side of her scrambled backwards away from her. There was a loud crack as the sidewalk broke, and she lowered her head to cover her baby. She was certain that something even worse had happened, and that any moment they would descend, and it was only the unearthly silence, the stillness of the air that finally made her open her eyes.

Both the mob and her family had backed a good distance away from her, frozen in their places and staring in wide-eyed, fearful horror. The silence was shattered as the child, having been shocked to silence by the loud crack, began crying again, clinging to his mother.

Sparda was crouched on the path, his huge clawed feet having shattered the paved walkway to the house. He shifted, and his wings, a good sixteen feet each, were fully spread, arched out, one hovering protectively over Eva's head. Sulfuric smoke billowed out from his nostrils, and his eyes glowed blood red, darkened in anger. In that moment he was truly fearsome, but Eva only felt mind numbing relief.

"…if she is harmed…in any way…" He spoke finally, his voice so deep and gravelly, so powerful that is made the ground itself shake. "If this child is ever harmed…even only a scratch…I will bring with me the host of Hell itself and kill every single one of you, and all of your children." The threat was simple and honest, and while the people had seen demons before, they had never seen one such as him. They all knew that it was true. That every word he said was true.

Eva stumbled back, her body too weak to hold itself up, now that the adrenaline rush was fading. The last thing she saw were a few people beginning to run towards town, the mob beginning to turn back. She couldn't see her family behind her, but she heard a commotion. She vaguely wondered what was happening, but she then realized she was falling back. She felt Sparda's powerful wing catch and support her, and that was the last thing she knew.

When she woke up it was raining. Her eyes flickered open, and she saw the water making tracks down the glass pane of the window. For awhile she just lay there and watched it. Her hips ached terribly, as did her legs and abdomen, the muscles cramped up and twitching. She groaned a little and rolled onto her back, sitting up with little pricks of pins and needles all over her skin.

She was in her room, and it was dark. In the corner she could see a crib, and she stared at it apprehensively. Her eyes darted to the opposite corner when she spotted movement.

"Are you alright?" The man asked, and he began walking towards the bed.

"Who are you…?" She whispered, her voice too scratched to do much else.

"It's me." He emerged into the wan light, and she saw a man with pale skin and even paler hair. His eyes were soft and blue, the exact shade of her own, and he wore a monocle, perhaps in mockery of the human customs he had no regard for.

"…Sparda." She murmured, and he was surprised to hear resentment in her voice.

"What's wrong?" He looked almost clueless. He had honestly thought she would like the human form he'd managed to acquire.

"What's wrong…?" She whispered in disbelief. "They're gone…aren't they?" It was obvious. The house was so dead, so still.

"Yes…" he said, just as confusedly. "They grabbed what they could and then ran…" He didn't understand. She hated her family, didn't she? He didn't understand her at all. "I chased them away, for you and the child."

"You…" she didn't finish her sentence, but he imagined that it wasn't anything he'd like. She stumbled to her feet, and he reached out to help her, but she waved his hands away. She moved over to the crib, gripping its sides tightly. She stared down into it, her ghostly white child curled up in the center. His small claws twitched reflexively, tearing the bed sheets a little.

"…he is as beautiful as you said he would be." Sparda said from behind her, quietly. She turned to look at him with angry eyes filled with tears, tear tracks staining her face.

"…he is an abomination." She replied, and left the room.

Eva's anger didn't last as long as she thought it would, but it lasted longer than Sparda expected. She had never before known fear, and now that she did she couldn't forget it, and she couldn't forgive the tiny creature that had caused it. She locked herself away in her parents' bedroom, and Sparda was left with the boy. She would only emerge to feed him, when Sparda begged for her to care for her son, and even a few weeks later, when she left her self imposed seclusion, her interactions with Virgil were empty and quiet. Her dream had died, and Virgil was little more than the resented reminder of everything she'd lost.

This, however, was far from the end. Everything would change once again, with the birth of a second halfling child named Dante.


End file.
